Glass Walls
by Shahrezad1
Summary: AU challenge. Place the Brave characters in an environment as close to your own as possible, while retaining their inherent personalities. "To not do the work resulted in not getting paid, which meant moving back in with her parents. And that was a fate worse than death." MeridaXMacGuffin, Macintosh and Dingwall mentions.
1. Chapter 1

Glass Walls

By Shahrezad1

Summary: AU challenge. Place the Brave characters in an environment as close to your own as possible, while retaining their inherent personalities. "To not do the work resulted in not getting paid, which meant moving back in with her parents. And that was a fate worse than death." MeridaXMacGuffin.

Disclaimer: I don't own Brave or the characters therein. But I do own my own experiences. :)

~/~/~

Merida tried valiantly to hold back her wracking cough in front of the store "Guest," a lady of middling height and extreme weight. She was surrounded by a bevy of small children, all of which seemed to get into everything, and was awkwardly piling more and more items from her cart onto the counter.

It was just another day at work in 'Toys 4 U's electronics section, within her little "fortress of solitude," and as usual the Guest Service counter was utilizing her as a backup cashier yet again. Never mind the tasks that had already been assigned her. Normally she wouldn't have cared, except that the region manager was expected to visit soon enough and she had enough boxes behind her to create a small children's fort. Instead she was burdened with catering to the whims of customers with less focus than a gnat and the organizational skills of a magpie.

All part of the job, she supposed, and reminded herself that it was situations like this which paid for the rent of her flat and tuition for University. To not do the work resulted in not getting paid, which meant moving back in with her parents. And that was a fate worse than death. She honestly couldn't bear it.

The young Associate's smile became strained as one of the little lads, a boy hardly older than three, began screaming for something he could only vaguely articulate.

"I'm so surry," the lady muttered as she pulled him in her arms while simultaneously scrambling to stop her children from ripping a display of batteries from their shelves, "I really am."

"It's no matter. It happens all the time," Merida responded soothingly, scanning yet another item and placing it into one of the store's newfangled "recycled" bags. Of course, the response opened her jaw enough that the cough she'd been holding back burst free. With a hurried turn she whirled around to expostulate harshly into her elbow. It was really the only safe place to do so, what with her hands full and the surrounding counter a likely place for sharing germs.

The Guest now looked at her with leery disdain, and the redhead sighed internally.

"There's nothin' tae worry about," she attempted to placate cheerfully, "I just seem to have picked up a wee bit of chest congestion, what with the cold weather an' all."

"Ah," the woman nodded her head in understanding and continued throwing things down on the counter. Merida resisted groaning and made an attempt at small talk as she worked on the transaction.

Of course, there were bumps, as there always were. The bairn with the strong lungs threw a fit until he could get what he wanted—crayons—then threw another as he ripped free a flashlight from its packaging. The customer paid for both as separate transactions, surely shooting Merida's 'Units Per Purchase' in the foot. But when it finally ended she was blissfully free, with exception of one minor detail.

"Storeroom?" she asked clearly over the walkie-talkie as the lady left Merida's claustrophobic little section, enclosed as it was by a "glass" wall roughly ten feet high.

There was a tad bit of static as it took a moment for the lad to respond, but respond he did with a solid, "aye? Gie's yir craak."1

"Could ye bring a bicycle tae the front fer a guest? I've got the SKU number if yer ready?" a part of her was thrilled as she waited for a response. For there was a reason, well, two really, that the boy had gotten the job of working in the storeroom, otherwise known as the "Back of House." The first being that he could lift near anything—whether it be a Powerwheel or bed frame or crib. He was able to heft anything of size and weight, and to see him come from the rear of their spacious shop, muscles hardly straining, was a sight to see for her athletic appreciation.

The second reason was that he couldn't speak clearly if his life depended on it. Which meant that he was never to be stuck on a register, cashiering and ringing up Guests, no matter how dire things got. Raised in the Lowlands, his native tongue was Doric. So while the lad could understand what was being asked of him, getting a response was a bit like being in the shadow of the tower of Babel.

Merida thought that it was fascinating. She'd picked up a few things over the months that he'd been with them, but she always looked forward to hearing more. Jami, a blonde coworker who always wore long skirts over her hourglass form, thought that she was an odd one, but couldn't fault her for it.

"Gae ahead, Aim ready fer it."

The girl grinned at the handheld communicator, "a'right, it's 617355." There was a pause as he typed it into his handheld electronic Sapphire, a device used to check inventory.

"Ay tirty'n'a ha centimeter Pen'ayleshiss' bike?"

She giggled a little at that example of verbal homicide, "aye, a thirty and a half centimeter Pinkalicious bike. Unassembled, please. The guest is waiting on a bench next tae the front."

"Ai'l be thare in a mynuet."

"Thanks, Matt," she responded cheerily, frustrated mood gone. Until another of her hacking coughs came over her, forcing the girl to her knees with a hand held to her chest. By the time she was done with her bout the young man had already come with the box and the customer had left with her too many children, a relief for all involved. She'd missed the chance at seeing him carry the large package out, too, but that annoyance was swept away by the realization that he had stepped into her area and was now looking at her with concern.

Merida resisted the urge to flush as red as her hair.

"Foo are ye deeing? he asked quietly, blonde eyebrows creasing over a small button nose.2 She's heard the question enough to know what he meant, however, and waved an unconcerned hand at him.

"I'm a'right, Matt. Just…a wee bit sick, is all," she tried to put a little bit of a positive spin on the situation as she smiled bravely at him, hand still on her chest as though forcibly keeping the coughing within, "I'll be right as rain in a day or two. An' besides, I didn't need that second lung anyhow."

He smiled slightly in recognition of her joke, but it didn't make a dent in the worry present within his eyes. He nodded and for a second it seemed like Matthew MacGuffin was about to say something for a moment, his hand clenching and unclenching on the mechanical Sapphire in his hand, but she beat him to it with a conversation changer worthy of a pro.

"So how are things back there in the 'Mattcave?'" she asked with a sideways grin. The boy of course blushed. The appellation had first begun a week or so into his training back there, with Merida inventing the term as a kind of 'welcome to the family' sort of thing. But he'd never really been completely comfortable with it; as though giving the Back of House area a title like that indicated that he had to fit the role of 'Mattman' or something similarly silly. But despite his discomfort, however, she hadn't been able to drop the issue. After all, his bashfulness was absolutely adorable. And a tad bit addicting.

"Nae bad," he finally responded in a light tumble of words, "an' tae electr'nis? It's fit-like?"3

She huffed out a laugh, which dislodged another small cough, "good enough, I suppose. Boring is more loik it."

He smiled as though wishing that his own area was half as uneventful. She knew that the Storeroom Associate was required to complete a certain number of tasks by the end of the day, similar to her own, while also helping bring items from the back to the front of the store. This was called "replenishing," as the computer informed them that the last of something had been sold and the same item, scanned into a specific location or "bay," was ready to be taken out. Bay audits also had to be done, to make sure that what the computer said was in a bay really was physically there.

She altered her response slightly, watching him a specific kind of care, hands behind her back, "well, more loik lonely. It's called the 'Fortress of Solitude' for a reason."

_That _he could understand.

The two of them exchanged variants of a 'see you later' as the assistant manager rounded the Guest Service kiosk, now in line of sight of Merida's little area, and promised to talk another time. It wasn't long before she was caught up in her assignments for the day, bent in half as she sorted through various mismatched boxes of new product that had to have security measures applied to them. Only then could they be worked out, labeled and displayed for everyone to see.

But she stopped abruptly at the feeling of eyes watching her back. Merida straightened and turned but remained in a kneeling position, her default pleasant expression falling as she realized that it wasn't a Guest behind her, but rather Eoin Macintosh from Guest Service.

Leaning up against the edge of her glass wall, arms crossed, he examined her with curious speculation, eyebrows high even as his lids were low. The lad spoke before she could ask him what he needed.

"You really do loik him, don't ye?"

Whatever response she'd been planning abruptly had the wind ripped from its sails, "w-what? Who are ye talking about?"

His pointed chin jutted in the direction of the back of the store, through the green doors she could just barely see on the edge of her vision, "the new lad. Ye loik him."

She bent back down at her work, shaking her head and hoping that her hair would cover up her expression of panic. And the telltale signs of red creeping up her neck to her cheeks, "I dinnae know what yer talking about. And besides, he's not exactly _new_ anymore."

The shrug he sent towards her strained through his tight red polo, tucked in at the waist to show off his physique to its best advantage. Even the blue marker that had somehow ended up on his arm only served to emphasize the solidness of his bicep, "everyone's new compared to us."

And it was true, in a way. Eoin had been working for the company since he was sixteen, jumping straight into work as he simultaneously balanced school. That meant that the two of them, plus Jami and a couple other workers, were the longest standing members of the Toys 4 U crew. Everyone else came and went as they pleased, making Matt practically a bairn in comparison.

"Aye, but I feel that he'll last for a while. He's not a ninny in the face of hard work."

"True enough," the lanky brunette conceded, "but that doesn'a mean you can dodge the question. Do ye or don't ye loik Matt?"

She dug deeper into her box, wondering if she had enough electronic security tags to place on the items she'd just received, "look, just because _ye_ flirt with anything in a skirt, doesn'a mean I have to," he sniffed at this description, but didn't argue with it.

"…it gets them tae buy more," he muttered unabashedly, "and he's not 'anything,' or 'anyone.' It's just Matt."

She growled slightly underneath her breath, releasing access to another round of coughs. But the girl managed to turn away just in time, so that they ended up again in the crease of her elbow rather than on the merchandise she was working with.

"Eoin, could ye just…go away? I have tae get my work done an' I'm not feeling well an…" she sat back on her haunches, shoving the masses of her hair away in frustration. A clip in the shape of a flower held up one side of it, keeping the curls out of her face, but the rest kept falling forward as she'd broken her last scrunchie recently. _Time tae buy some new hair ties_, she absently thought to herself, followed by the reminder that she didn't have the money for anything even as simple as that until they got paid again.

"…an it's more complicated than that, Eoin. I'm not e'en his type."

The lad wasn't budging, arms still crossed as he asked blandly, "and what is his type, then?"

She waved a hand up and down in irritation at his insistence, "tall an'…beautiful, with light brown hair. He has a girlfriend, so all we can ever be is mates."4

"That's his _sister_, _Paige_," the Guest Service Associate said with some satisfaction as he examined his well-manicured nails. Making her wonder who was watching over his station if _he_ was _here_, talking to her.

But then his words sunk in and she couldn't help but gape, "w-what? How do ye ken that?"

"Because we're gonna see a film together on Friday," he answered matter-of-factly, "she came through my line buying a present fer their younger brother and in talking tae her, I learned that her brother Matt is sweet on a lass."

"Eoin, that doesn't mean anythi-."

"A ginger-haired lass."

That struck her dumb as she gaped at her longtime friend. But all he did was smile at that food for thought and headed into one of the locked rooms within her sectioned off area for a label-maker. Leaving his words pressing down on her mind as he returned to his place in the front. Looking through the glass that divided them, she noted that a lad from the sales floor, Collin Dingwall by name, had stood serenely in his place. Greeting each new customer with a vague smile and wave. But at Eoin's return he again took up his old occupation of straightening aisles and returning misplaced items to their rightful locations.

For a moment she envied the lad's freedom, a certain restlessness left behind in Macintosh's wake, but determinedly applied it toward her current task at hand. The lass that she'd seen might have been Matt's sister, but it might not've been. And Eoin could have been teasing her for all she knew.

The rest of the day went by swiftly. She finished her projects with alacrity and acted as a second cashier when Eoin's customer line got too long at the Guest Service Desk. The times in which she interacted with Matt were not quite as smooth as they'd always been, with her joking and him responding with naught but a smile. But her blushes caused him to look on her in speculation, and she wondered what he was thinking each time that he left.

Only when the store was closed, the register tills accounted for, and the sales floor clean did they all ready themselves to leave. But a hearty rainstorm had rolled in during the time it took for the sun to go down, and Merida groaned as she remembered that she'd taken the umbrella out of her backpack…and that she'd be riding her bicycle home, as her roommate had the car.

Eoin, Collin and Jami shot her look of a concern as she grumblingly pulled the hood of her teal jacket over her head, scarf thrown around her neck. But they said nothing, and with a sigh she sat down on her already dripping bicycle seat. Until a snap from overhead drew her eyes upward with a start.

"Matt?!" she said with surprise, gazing above her only to see his pale eyes in the darkness. The lad had an arm held out above her, dark blue umbrella in hand, and even with her rusty 'ride' jutting out in either direction he seemed to envelope her with his warmth.

"Dae ye have a heeze, ken?"5

She blinked up at him, "a…heeze?"

He sighed as though accustomed to others asking him for the very same thing, "some'on tae…teik ye home."6

"Oh. Nay," she shrugged as though this was no big deal, but he only sighed in return.

"Git aff the bike, Mer'da."7

She blinked, then frowned, "what?" Looking around, she wondered if any of her coworkers had anything to say about the matter but Jami was already in her vehicle and Eoin was beginning to drive away in his red sports car. Collin had already gone, his father having been waiting for him since they'd closed.

"But, I-."

"Ah kin cast her en the back of me lorry, iffen ye wish."8

"Ye dinnae have tae do that, Matt. I can bike home just fi-."9

Her protests came to an abrupt standstill as he bent over her form, eyebrows creasing together and expression tired, "Merida. Please. Let me dae this fer ye."10

She opened her mouth to say no but what came was, "a'right." But it took her a few seconds worth of blinking before she actually climbed up and off the seat. He didn't hesitate to pick up the bike by its frame, while still holding the oversized umbrella over the both of them, and escorted her to his large white truck across the lot. A half-trailer covered up the back of the truck bed, and it was there that he tucked the little bicycle before motioning her over to the passenger side.

He put his key to the lock and opened the creaking door, waiting for her to climb in. But with the oversized tires and lifted frame she couldn't even reach the hand-hold specifically meant for that purpose. The ginger-haired girl stared up at the contraption, wondering about the futility of even attempting a jump for it, when a huff of breath stirred the back of her hair.

"Fergive me," Matt whispered quietly, and with little warning she felt massive hands circle around her waist in order to boost her up. Lifting the young woman like a child as he put her in the cavernous seat. She didn't protest but a curious little "meep" escaped before she could hold it back. And then the entry was been carefully closed.

A few heavy treads later he'd passed over to the other side of the automobile, climbing up and in with ease. And with a start Merida realized that perhaps this was the only place in which he felt comfortable. Everything else was too short or too thin for him—but Matthew's vehicle was massive, just like he was. And with a minute or two of settling she could see the stress of the day shift off of him, like water off a duck's back.

He asked for directions to her flat but after that they didn't say much. He mostly watched the road, keeping in mind the torrential rain and maintaining a careful speed amid the slick streets. And with nothing else to look at she examined the interior of his car.

It had the appearance of something lived in, was her first impression, as a spoon and toothbrush sitting side by side glinted up at her from the unused ashtray. And while there was a little bit of the trash she'd come to expect in all of her male mates' vehicles, it was limited to what could be thrown into a refitted grocery bag. A medal hung from the rearview mirror, saying something about a youth competition that she wasn't familiar with, and between the two of them sat a small stack of college textbooks; Calculus, English, and the Culinary Arts. The girl blinked at the last of these three and wondered just how much she knew about her fellow associate. Then wondered about how much more she'd like to know about him.

But those were the kind of thoughts that led one down dangerous paths. Merida bit her lip and turned away, gazing at the misty haze their combined breath was creating on the interior of her window, and pondered making a smiley face in the steam. Would he be angry if she did? Or would he even notice?

But that moment's pondering was interrupted with a cough. Which lead to a series of painful, rib-breaking hacks. By the time she was done she didn't think that she had any lungs left over, with her back and her skull aching like someone had used a nutcracker on both. Gasping for breath, a reedy, unhealthy example of its kind, she tried to find any semblance of calm. And it was within that realm of forced focus that she realized that his hand had been on her shoulder, keeping her solidly in place as the rest of her frame shook like an earthquake.

"Thank ye," she murmured, sounding much like an eighty-year old smoker as she expressed her appreciation. She winced at the sound, but he did little more than begin rubbing her back in a circle of smooth gestures.

"Ye're welcome," he responded quietly, head ducked to look at her. And with a start she realized that his other hand was off the wheel. They'd stopped.

"We're haer," he remarked unnecessarily, eyes dodging away along with with his palm, and immediately she missed the feel of his warmth against her shoulder blade.

"Aye…um, thank ye again, Matt."

"Nae probl'm," he murmured, then seemed to hesitate as her fingers gripped the stubborn door handle, "ah, afore ye gae, um…"11

She'd swung the access open by then, raindrops falling on her forearm arm as she waited expectantly for him to continue. Part of the young student was focused on the conversation while yet another part wondered how she was to get down and retrieve her bicycle from the back. But that disappeared quickly as the lad opened his mouth again.

"Ah was wondrin'…iffen mebbe ye might fancy gettin' a bite tae eat?" the hopeful, worried tone in his voice made her look up from her distracted pondering, and Merida hated to admit it but she knew that her expression was as blank and shocked as a snowstorm in May. 12

"But…" she responded slowly, mind not quite computing the request, "everything's closed right now, Matt." He flushed as though she'd just pointed out that his shirt was on backwards. Which of course cut through her own shock.

"Ah mean…some tyme. Nocht noo, a'course, as it's rain'in, but…"he looked away a moment, and in the reflective light of the flat's overhead lamps she could see the dim hue of red coloring his cheeks. The hand that had been on her back went to the far side of his neck, rubbing uneasily underneath the shaggy hair that desperately needed a cut. The blonde finally returned his gaze to her as he bravely bridged the rest of his request, "mebbe anither tyme?" 13

They were hardly a foot away from one another, what with how he'd stretched out his arm initially in comfort. And with a start Merida realized that this was the first time that they'd ever been on equal grounds, without him lording over her in size. Her second realization was that he, Matthew MacGuffin, the man she'd been fancying for more than a few months now, was asking her out on a date.

A date. A real-live date. With a shy gentleman of a man.

Any other response was null and void as the girl began smiling. Revealing a slightly buck-toothed grin as she beamed from cheek to cheek, "I'd love tae."

He opened and closed his eyes as if in slow motion, then swallowed and dropped the awkward hand, "r-really?"

"Yes, really," she reassured before patting his arm, her chin jutting out in motion toward the bed of the truck, "now come and help me get me bike out. And when we get tae the door I can get some paper and write down me number."

~/~/~

AN: These are based on actual experiences from my life, kind of cobbled together into a general Retail experience. I've worked in the electronics section of a toy store for five years now, and it used to actually be a separate section of the store, cut off by a "glass" wall to discourage theft.

I wrote Merida as being sick because, yes, I'm actually sick with chest congestion right now. It kind of hurts. :| But it's a great experience when it comes to accuracy in writing! :D

The "Fortress of Solitude" is in reference to the original Superman movies and lore. :3 The Mattcave did exist, as well as the Teen Titans Tower, and we have a red emergency phone in my area, which is ironically labeled, "The Batphone," complete with bat symbol.

Jami's a real person. I couldn't exclude her from my work experience—I adore her too much. Macintosh's is also based off of another friend/coworker of mine. Only she's a female flirt, not a male one. XD

Pinkalicious is a children's book that's popular enough to have other accessories made for it. Stuff like a DS game and bikes and a dress-up outfit or two.

The white truck belongs to another coworker of mine, who is tall and looks like a brunette version of Barbie. D: She's the sweetest thing I've ever seen, though, don't get me wrong. But her truck is HUGE, and when she gives me a lift home I can barely climb in… ^^;

**Translation Time!** :D And due to popular request, I have made an effort to cut back on the use of Scottish phrases when the characters are "in thought," although you will find a few "the lad" and "her flat" (which means apartment, btw) thrown in there. I tried to make much of it self-explanatory and for the parts that aren't…well, here's a translation. :) Enjoy!

**1 Gie's yir craak:** Tell me your news.

**2 Foo are ye deeing?:** How are you doing?/How are you?

**3 Nae bad. An' tae electr'nis? It's fit-like?:** Well/Not Bad. And the electronics? How is it?

**4 Mates:** friends.

**5 Dae ye have a heeze, ken?:** Do you have a lift, you know? I'm not sure how to indicate in Scottish/Brittish/Welsh when someone need to take another person home in their car. But I do know that the term "a ride" is a very poor choice of words. And that the real word for "lift" refers to an elevator. And the saying "I'm stuffed," actually means, "I'm pregnant." ^^; So this was a tough one.

**6 Some'on tae…teik ye home:** Someone to take you home.

**7 Git aff the bike, Mer'da:** Get off the bike, Merida. When he's speaking quickly he probably drops a vowel or two. Very clumsy of him, I have to say. ;)

**8 Ah kin cast her en the back of me lorry, iffen ye wish:** I can throw her in the back of my truck, if you wish.

**9 Ye dinnae have tae do that, Matt. I can bike home just fine:** you don't have to do that, Matt. I can bike home just fine.

**10 Merida. Please. Let me dae this fer ye:** Merida. Please. Let me do this for you.

**11 Nae probl'm. Ah, afore ye gae, um: **No problem. Ah, before you go, um.

**12 Ah was wondrin'…iffen mebbe ye might fancy gettin' a bite tae eat?:** I was wondering…if maybe you might want to get a bite to eat?

**13 Ah mean…some tyme. Nocht noo, a'course, as it's rain'in, but… mebbe anither tyme?:** I mean…some time. Not now, of course, as it's raining, but…maybe another time?


	2. Chapter 2

Glass Walls

By Shahrezad1

Summary: AU challenge. Place the Brave characters in an environment as close to your own as possible, while retaining their inherent personalities. "To not do the work resulted in not getting paid, which meant moving back in with her parents. And that was a fate worse than death." MeridaXMacGuffin.

Disclaimer: I don't own Brave or the characters therein. But I do own my own experiences. :)

**Warning: This next chapter is based off of the American adaptation of the holiday All Hallows Eve/Halloween. In all the research I've done it seems like the UK follows similar traditions (although a little closer to the source, which is Samhain). Regardless, on any point of inaccuracy, please forgive me.**

~/~/~

Chapter 2

The thirty-first always ended up one of two ways at 'Toys 4 U,' despite being the beginning of the holiday season. It wasn't through any marketing strategy that it was so, nor any weekly circumstance (such as the mass return to work tied to Mondays), but rather a yearly event.

Halloween.

The day always went one of two directions. It was either busy until the last minute, full of parents snagging up the last mismatched costume piece and trying frantically to scrounge together enough of a candy buffet to be satisfactory for picky trick-or-treators. When this happened they were often also bombarded by groups of teens, out to have as much fun as they could on the one night in the year in which their curfew was loosened.

Or the sales floor was dead, as dead as a few of the pint-size skeletons she'd seen running by once school was let out. The marking point fell at around 5:00, for any number of reasons, but the foremost being that once it hit that time parents were too busy bustling their children from house to house in search of cavity-inducing offerings to mess up the store.

The associate could expect it, the managers could as well. But despite this anticipated drop-off the store hours remained the same and someone still had to work the shift. And this year Merida had drawn the unlucky straw.

Which wasn't to say that she minded. They were actually being allowed to dress up, unlike a few years back when corporate had thrown a fit. And with the rush of people lessening to a slow trickle she was able to converse amiably with the folk that came through.

Not to mention the fact that if she hadn't had such obligations as work she probably would have been commandeered for triplet duty, never mind that she no longer lived at home. Her mother would still have found a way, for even with Elinor and the housekeeper, Maudie, combined they would still have had one of the three left unattended (and this year they were going as clone troopers, making it doubly difficult to keep track of the mischief-minded trio).

Compared to that, pulling the closing shift was considered light duty. Especially with the opportunity to visit friends afterward. Pretty low key, as far as activities went. But she found that she kind of liked the change of pace.

Right as she was mentally celebrating her relaxed situation a guest came up to her line.

As the night had worn on she'd noted that there were even less guests than usual, the handful of scragglers entering in as though under condemnation and leaving just as swiftly under the same light, voices a dim hush in the eerily silent building. The man in front of Merida, however, took no note of this unconscious censure.

He was wearing sunglasses at night and a black business suit, seeming harried and a tad distracted. Merida reserved judgment, waiting for her work to begin. For in an odd struck of luck she was currently holding fort at the Service Desk, Eoin Macintosh on his lunch and the area slow enough that she could manage the task without any help.

Even the electronics section, her usual home away from home, was a lonely fortress of glass and silence across the way from where she stood. But it meant that she was relegated to more than just backup cashier duty—she was _the only cashier _at this time.

Reminding herself to smile at the guest before her, she pulled a bag open in readiness for her current transaction, "guid e'en, Sir. Did ye find everything ye were luiking fer?"

"Um, yeah, sure," he muttered with a distracted air and her thick eyebrows jumped as she realized that he was an American.

"Well, that's guid to hear," she continued, making a further effort toward enunciating. Merida hoped absently that he would do the same for her, what with the rapid chatter or slur of grammar which most Americans used, "I see you've found the 'Witchy Wendolina' doll, complete with crow friend. That's a guid choice, thar, especially tonight of all nights."

"You think so?" he asked absently, patting his coat pockets until he had found his wallet. She also noted that he still hadn't taken off his sunglasses.

"Aye, she's the fan favorite," Merida remarked, scanning and bagging the item efficiently, "though her mate Nessa Lucia is a popular option as well."

_Does he always wear those? _She wondered to herself. He didn't appear to blind, as he'd walked up to her desk with no difficulty at all. So maybe he'd just wanted a reason to not make eye contact with anyone, as he was doing now.

He finally looked up at her then, over the glasses, and Merida found his eyes to be a neutral grey. The man blinked, "'mate?'"

It took her a moment before the young woman comprehended his confusion, "oh. Oh! I meant his 'friend.' Sorry about tha'."

"It's okay," the guest brushed off, apology ignored. And with sudden and abrupt stiffness the redhead realized that he was examining her form, a frown on his face. Or rather, he was examining her costume, "…who are you supposed to be?"

The girl tried not to cringe at the blunt accusation in his tone, as though the man were asking her what planet she was from, "well, ah, A'm Miss Martian. From Young Justice?"

His expression remained blank.

"…or the Justice League?"

Again, no moment of recognition.

All the _Toys_ associates had made a pact this year to dress up as superheroes, whether they be DC, Marvel or even Dark Horse. Eoin Macintosh had been the first to throw himself into the ring with an impressive-looking Loki. Carrying off the style with the air of a man who knows he looks good and had his nose in the air to prove it. Collin Dingwall had gone the easy route and was pulling off a fluffy-haired Agent Phil Coulson, although that could have easily translated into a character from the _Men In Black_. His modified Nerf gun applied to both choices as well.

Jami was relying on her affinity for naturally blonde characters in order to pull off an adorable, if curvaceous, Supergirl (although Merida knew for fact that she would be changing into Black Canary once she was off work). And Derek, Jami's beau, easily transformed into a Hugh Jackman-like Wolverine after a few days of not shaving and some carefully applied hair gel.

She wasn't sure whom Matt had dressed up as, Eoin only chuckling each time she'd asked him. And they hadn't really had the chance to talk yet, what with his position in the back, hers in the front, and their decided lack of customers.

"Um, it's an American animation…" when that failed to get a response she shrugged and went to total up the transaction, "never you mind."

Pointing out his total, the man grunted slightly in response and bent to count out his money, fumbling a bit with unfamiliar bills and coins. By the time he'd handed them to her he had finally found his response, "well, I guess you can get away with dressing up when you're sixteen," remarked unenthusiastically. The blood in the Dunbroch girl's veins thickened like ice on a river.

"A…A'm twenty-one," she blurted out, face stuck in what she knew to be an unnatural position.

Time froze as realization of what they'd both said hovered around them and the first sign of any sort of emotion appeared on his face in the form of splotchy, red embarrassment.

"Uh, right," he pushed up his sunglasses to hide his eyes from view, snagged his bag and forgot his change.

And as Merida stared off toward the door he'd chosen as an exit (which was, in fact, labeled 'entrance'), she heard a deep chuckle rumble from behind her.

"Nau tha' was a fair bit o' blethering," the deep voice that followed remarked idly.1

She pivoted around, falling unconsciously into an Aikido position she'd picked up from her roommate. But the minute she did heat began conquering the span of her skin.

Matthew Macguffin was dressed in full armor, metallic silver reflecting off of shoulders and chest. His clothing was a deep blue, his cape a vivid crimson, and the lighting fixture behind him haloed his hair, turning it from flaxen into gold. Merida did a double-take and then swallowed hard, noting how good his shoulder-length hair looked on him now and vaguely recognizing the hammer on his belt as a toy that they carried within their store.

The lad was dressed of Thor, of all characters, and suddenly the redhead realized why Eoin (the god of mischief himself) had been laughing so hard.

"Macguffin," she barked out, crossing her arms to detract from her blush, "just how long were you standin' there, I wonder?"

The tall youth leaned up against a magazine stand installed over the top of the register display of 'impulse purchase' items. It moaned a bit but held, and Merida sent off a silent thank you—he'd already broken a few things over the months he'd been there, and she wasn't sure if she could temper his guilt if it occurred this time. Sadly, it was just a side effect of how large and strong he was.

Not that she would change that detail for a minute. Especially right now. She ignored the need to fan herself and maintained her arms in their crossed position.

"Och, lang eneuch tae haer about yer secret. Sixteen, eh?" his eyebrows rose teasingly, and the young man smirked, "dontcha ken tha ye have tae be at least seventeen fer the darg?"2

"Ha, ha, you're hilarious, Macguffin," she rolled her eyes dramatically. But he didn't snark back. Instead the lad merely smiled at her, just taking the time to look at her, so long and so thoroughly that she was surprised she hadn't started blushing again.

Accursed ginger genes.

But she was starting to get accustomed to the teasing.

Since their short conversation in his pickup so many months ago they'd had the chance to interact a bit more. It was slow going, however, and the 'bite to eat' Matt had been so earnest for had been a botched job, interrupted by a phoned-in emergency via her Mum. And they hadn't had the chance to 'raincheck' on the offer, due to a rockslide of homework and responsibilities and then eventually the onset of final projects for University. But they'd been talking more and the two of them had taken up a habit of texting and emailing, wherein she never had to mentally translate his Doric.

She was still holding out for a real date, however, but Merida wasn't sure how she would handle it when it came. After all, lads like him never went for lasses like her. She was far too abrasive and athletic to fit in with the feminine mold her mother had always aimed for her to be, and even if society said that being a tomboy was alright she really didn't have enough experience with dating or relationships to feel comfortable with the process.

To be truthful, she was like her Da in that way. He'd taken one look at her Mum and had been set for life—he'd wanted her and no one else. But Merida wasn't sure if upon her 'one' she'd have the bravery to know what to do.

Although she was starting to get an inkling that Matt wouldn't be a half-bad choice, if she was thinking long-term.

"…wot is it?" Merida asked, awkward from such determined perusal as she realized that he was, indeed, still looking at her.

"Ye leuk as bonny an' fair as a shiny ha' penny," he finally said, then paused deliberately in acknowledgement of her costume, "Miss Martian."3

A small semblance of relief coursed over her as she found herself gratified that at least _one_ person, the person whose opinion she cared most about, would know whom she was dressed as, "as do ye, Prince Thor. Ye lads are a set of devils, by the way. Why didna ye tell me whom you were coming as, though? I could have joined in on the fun…"

Her words trailed off as she remembered that there really was only one female on that team that she could play. The shorter associate attempted to swallow her words before they could go too far while Matt only smiled, looking far too innocent and sweet, allowing her to come to her own conclusions.

"A ken tha' this be the fairer option," he remarked politely. Even if she was wearing a skirt made out of a modified pillowcase and green tights that were too small. Because at least she didn't have to try to squeeze herself into lycra and leather. 4

"Why, the twa o' us are e'en a pair," he remarked, motioning toward their combined mix of red and blue. 5

She smiled fully and fondly, "aye, that we are."

"An' we'd be a fair sight tae see out and aboot," he went on, hopefully. 6

She opened her mouth to say something, a yes or a no she didn't know, but stopped. Here it was, her chance to finally go on a date with the lad. She had no other excuses, expectations or activities to get in the way. Her mother wouldn't be calling, the restaurants would be open longer and later, and should they receive any odd looks it would be due to their costume choices rather than any extreme oppositions in size (tiny versus large) or personality (boisterous versus shy).

"But the social stigma," Merida finally said in mock horror, holding out her hands in entreaty, "a DC character an' a Marvel one—what will the geeks say?"

"Och," he drawled, "thay'd hae tae be a bampot tae ken thay could eva' claim a match between aliens from out o' toun," he motioned toward their costumes and she understood with a laugh that it was true—both Thor and Miss Martian were technically Aliens, "An' A've never cared whit me 'brither' thinks," Matt remarked with an exultant smile and a theatrical sniff. The young woman had to laugh as a vision of Eoin Macintosh in full-out green came to mind. 7

But Matthew's playacting was a sure response to her own. He recognized her acquiescence by her joshing tone for in the times that Merida had had to turn him down she'd been regretful but upfront about it. Now she wasn't saying yes, but she most certainly wasn't saying no.

"An' Coulson?"

"We hae an understandin'," the blonde smoothly replied. 8

Merida crossed her arms again, "SHIELD sanction, then, for a cross-universe romance?"

"Aye, if tha's wha' ye wad hae it tae be," he agreed solemnly. 9

And then her breath hitched in the way it had been doing more and more often around the lad. Especially when his gaze settled on the redhead with all the singlemindedness of a man on a mission. It didn't help, either, that her blush was increasing at the same rate as the widening of his soft smile.

Straightening slightly, the tall, broad—_heroic looking_, her mind threw in—young man ceased his leaning and walked slowly forward. Then when within close range his calloused hand rose to hover over her cheek, hesitating as though at his own unworthiness. Finally it rested against her skin, a cool presence against the overheated warmth, and Merida let out a sigh that she didn't know she'd been holding.

Two of them settled into each others' presence as though having waited their whole lives for the moment. Until the harsh sound of a deliberately cleared throat made them jump away.

Eoin Macintosh's nasal voice sneered a wedge between their musings, " there's a camera just above ye, you ken that? So ye micht want tae keep that kind of affection fer after work." 10

The words were intended to sound helpful but the tone was full of sibling-like disdain.

_I dinnae want tae hae tae see ye all googly-eyed_, he essentially said without words, And Merida definitely got the message.

Thinking that his costume suited him perhaps _too_ well, the small woman scowled past Macguffin's shoulder, resisting the urge to stick out her tongue. Instead she retorted with a, "an' what about _ye_, then? There's a camera right above where _ye_ are every day."

His smirk made her want to hit him, "aye, but unlike some, the camera actually finds me bonny."

Before she could lob the shoe at him that so very much was destined to interact with his head, her beau shifted around to face their mutual coworker. Surprised, she looked up and watched Matt's face crumple in on itself.

"Ye…ye dinnae think A'm fair?" Macguffin asked with a plaintive moan, sounding heartbroken as he brought his hands up to his heart. Eoin's face blanked and the hands he'd propped on his hips dropped. Only then did he respond. 11

"Nay, Macguffin. I didnae mean ye. I meant…" the lad trailed off as his hands flopped mid-motion. He'd about to refer to Merida as being the target of his sarcasm, but that wouldn't really help him in his current situation, "well, I was just jestin'. No harm done."

The bigger man leaned down, sorrow morphing into a smirk, "_gotcha._ An' A'm asking ye now not to insult a quine so fair agin. Ye ken?" 12

Macintosh could only stare a moment or two before he broken into chuckles, truce written all over his face, "a'right, a'right. Merida is off limits…when yer around."

She wasn't quite sure how to respond to that bit of protective gentlemanliness (aimed specifically at _her_) and so merely nodded at the two lads and made her exit, blushing at the thought of her unexpected Halloween engagement. And at the idea that Matthew Macguffin had just defended her, as though she was a _lady._

Maybe dating wouldn't be as uncertain of an experience as she'd expected.

~/~/~

AN: Not as good as the first chapter, I think, but I'm pretty satisfied with it regardless. And I had intended on writing this up around Halloween. –laughs- Yep, that _totally _worked out. XD

In any case…MERRY/HAPPY CHRISTMAS! :D

A lot of this actually happened to me my first year of retail, when I was still a lowly cashier instead of an electronics associate. A man was buying a doll for his niece and I made mention that I collected dolls and figurines. His response was, "well, you can get away with that when you're sixteen." I responded, automatic and deadpan, "I'm twenty-one." It was kind of hilarious at the time.

The use of an American NPC (non-player character) was not in the effort to look down upon my own country, by the way. It's just what came to mind. The 'chatter' mentioned is me when I'm energetic at work. The 'slur of grammar' is also me, from when I'm tired enough to mumble.

We, as Americans, are also pretty bad about making eye contact with people. I've trained myself to do it, smiling in the process, but others will often turn away in discomfort. Especially in the city.

The doll the fictional guest purchased in this is an ode to the aforementioned doll incident. And the "style" of doll is a reference to Monster High dolls, which are currently popular right now. I own three.

One year they did actually ban us from wearing costumes. I'm guessing that it was because of a wardrobe malfunction fiasco in some other state. Irritated and disappointed, a lot of us wore Halloween accessories. I had a button that had a smiling, self-satisfied ghost on it saying, "this button is my costume." The next year, however, they let us dress up again. :D Only with stricter rules as to the nature of our costume choices.

Merida's Miss Martian costume is based off of the one that I made this year for my friend, Jami's, annual superhero costume party. Here's a link, just remove the spaces: shahrezad1. deviantart gallery/ 24206957# / d5agy1j

Jami's and Derek's Superhero costumes from a few years back: shahrezad1. deviantart gallery/ 24206957# /d2lnslr They're married now, by the way. :3

Merida could have been Black Widow, the Wasp, or Scarlet Witch from the Avengers group. But none of them quite fit. In fact, I can see her dressing up as Hawkeye instead. –nods sagely-

TRANSLATION:

"**Nau tha' was a fair bit o' blethering."** – Now that was a decent bit of babbling/nonsense talking.

"**Och, lang eneuch tae haer about yer secret. Sixteen, eh? Dontcha ken tha ye have tae be at least seventeen fer the darg?"**—Oh, long enough to hear about your secret. Sixteen, eh? Don't you know that you have to be at least seventeen for the work/job?

"**Ye leuk as bonny an' fair as a shiny ha' penny."**—You look as pretty as a shiny half-penny.

"**A ken tha' this be the fairer option."**—I know that this is probably the better option.

"**Why, the twa o' us are e'en a pair."**—Why, the two of us are even a pair/match ('why, we even match!').

"**An' we'd be a fair sight tae see out and aboot.**—And we'd be a fair/pretty sight to see out and about.

"**Och, thay'd hae tae be a Bampot tae ken thay could eva' claim a match between aliens from out o' toun. An' A've neva cared whit me 'brither' thinks."**—Oh, they'd have to be a crazy person to think/know that they could ever fight a match between aliens from out of town. And I've never cared what my 'brother' thinks.

"**We hae an understandin'."**—We have an understanding.

"**Aye, if tha's wha' ye wad hae it tae be."**—Yes, if that's what you would have it to be.

"**There's a camera just above ye, you ken that? So ye micht want tae keep that kind of affection fer after work."**—There's a camera just above you, you know that? So you might want to keep that kind of affection for after work.

"**Ye…ye dinnae think A'm fair?"**—You…you don't think that I'm fair/pretty?

"**Gotcha. An' A'm asking ye now not to insult a quine so fair agin. Ye ken?"**—Gotcha/Jinx. And I'm asking you now not to insult a girl/woman so fair/pretty again. You understand?


End file.
